


The Tom-Tom Heart

by lustmordred



Series: Heart [1]
Category: The Covenant (2006)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-09-30
Updated: 2011-09-30
Packaged: 2017-10-24 04:08:36
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 14,152
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/258834
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lustmordred/pseuds/lustmordred
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Tyler needs Pogue to do him a favor and okay, maybe it’s a really huge favor like take his virginity, but it’s not a big deal. Really, it’s not.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Tom-Tom Heart

There’s a tap on the window across from his bed, but Pogue doesn’t hear it at first over the bass vibrating in the floor from his stereo speakers. He’s lying on his back on the bed with his eyes closed, listening and it isn’t until the sound comes again, louder, that he notices it and opens his eyes. He catches movement outside the glass and sits up before he sees that it’s a person and recognizes the face. Tyler presses his nose to the other side of the glass and peers in at him and Pogue starts to get up to let him in, but the lock switches open and the window slides up on its own before he‘s done more than stand.

Pogue settles back on the bed as Tyler climbs through the window and closes it behind him just like a door, this time with his hands. “You could have let me open it instead of using for something so stupid,” Pogue says.

Tyler rolls his eyes. “Wow, you sounded just like Caleb when you said that,” he says.

“Uh huh,” Pogue says, raising a brow at him as he slides his eyes over him, taking in his wet hair and damp clothes. “Is it raining?”

“No, I took a shower after I got dressed,” Tyler says with an amused huff. “Yeah, it’s raining.”

“Right, and you could use to float yourself up to the window and unlock it, but not to keep from getting wet,” Pogue says. He leans down to pick up a shirt off the floor and tosses it to him. “Put that on, I’ll get you some pants,” he says as he gets up.

“Jesus, what are you, my mother?” Tyler says. He tosses the shirt back at him and takes his own wet one off as he walks toward Pogue. “I didn’t come here to be mothered.”

Pogue eyes him with amused interest as he approaches. Tyler’s sixteen and a year younger than all of them and they’re all protective and possessive by nature anyway, so the “mothering” just comes natural. He’s seen Caleb do it and hell, Reid does it all the time. Tyler’s the baby of their fucked up little family, whether he likes it or not.

He puts his hands in his pockets as Tyler draws closer and watches him under lifted brows. There’s something in the way Tyler’s moving as he steps up to him that puts Pogue on alert, though he’s not sure why. “Alright, I’ll bite,” he says. “ _What_ did you come here for?”

Tyler stops in front of him, only a few inches separating them from touching skin on skin, and drops his hands to the waist of Pogue’s jeans, hooking his index fingers into the front belt loops. His eyes are downcast and when he raises them they linger on Pogue’s mouth before moving up. The way Tyler’s behaving is at once strange and vaguely familiar, but it’s the tiny spark of fear in the back of his eyes that clue him in and suddenly, without Tyler saying a word, Pogue knows. To say that he’s shocked would be a monumental understatement.

“You’re kidding,” he says. He starts to step back, but Tyler’s hands clench and he’s held in place by his belt loops. “Tyler… baby boy, you let me go right now.”

“But you haven’t let me tell you what I’m here for,” Tyler says, and he’s trying to be so confident and sure, but all that cockiness is bullshit and Pogue sees it instantly.

Pogue rakes a hand through his long hair and shakes his head. “Nuh-uh. No way, man,” he says.

Tyler frowns at him and takes a step closer, the almost touching heat of his body making Pogue straighten up and tense to keep it from being actual touching. “Why not?” Tyler asks. “It’s not a big deal, Pogue.”

Pogue coughs out an incredulous laugh. “Maybe if I had a fucking death wish it wouldn’t be, but I really like my balls right where they are, thanks and Caleb and Reid would rip them off and hang ‘em from a flagpole if I did—”

“I won’t say anything,” Tyler promises.

“Oh my god, I am not listening to this shit,” Pogue says, twisting his hips a little and turning to make Tyler finally let go. “Why me?” he mutters under his breath as he crosses the room to snatch the pack of cigarettes and lighter off his nightstand. “Why…” He lights it and throws them back down as he inhales. “Why oh why…”

“Because I trust you,” Tyler says. He tilts his head defiantly when Pogue looks over at him and glares. “Well I do. And I’m tired of being the only damn virgin in the room, okay?”

“You’re sixteen years old, you aren’t the only virgin in the room most of the time, believe me,” Pogue says and sits down on the side of the bed. “Fuck, man, get a girlfriend like a normal kid, huh?”

“Except I’m in the room with the three of _you_ most of the time, so yeah I am,” Tyler says, pacing in front of Pogue by the bed. “And look, we’re _not_ normal. And I don’t see what the hell the _big deal is_. I don’t want it anymore, so fucking take it, okay? Why… Is it me?”

Pogue scrubs at his face and looks up at him, not sure if he wants to cry or laugh hysterically over the situation, thinking maybe a little bit of both. “Is what you?”

“You know… ah…” Tyler hesitates, then just shrugs and says, “Well, I’m a guy.”

“Yeah, I know,” Pogue says dryly. He flicks his cigarette ash carelessly on the carpet and sighs. “Yeah, it _is_ you, but it would still be about you if you were a girl. Because it’s you, which makes it like incest.”

“Except it isn’t,” Tyler points out.

“Except it is,” Pogue says right back.

“Except it—”

“What about Reid?” Pogue says and yes, he’s _really_ interested to know why Tyler came all the way over to his house and floated himself up to his bedroom window instead of just asking Reid.

“Because… it’s Reid,” Tyler says, looking uncomfortable. “Because I don’t know if I could look him in the eye after that and, man, I _have_ to.”

Pogue nods. That is certainly true; as the youngest, Reid and Tyler are close. Just like Caleb and Pogue are close. They’re _all_ close and the combined elements of their love for each other is a strange balance. But divided; Tyler’s easy silence and devotion balance off Reid’s quick temper and reckless nature and calm him. Just like Pogue’s own fire balances Caleb’s ice and soothes it.

Pogue looks at Tyler now and an understanding passes unspoken between them. Tyler can’t lose that balance by asking more of Reid than he’s willing to give.

“I knew you would at least listen,” Tyler whispers, taking a step toward the bed.

When Pogue doesn’t say anything or move, Tyler walks around the foot of the bed to where he’s sitting on the edge of it and crouches down on his heels. Tilting his head, he peers up into Pogue’s down turned face, searching. He rests one hand on Pogue’s knee for balance and Pogue doesn’t stand or push him away, just watches him, still undecided because there’s another reason why Tyler’s here that Pogue suddenly understands. Tyler said it when Pogue asked and he hadn’t been really listening; Tyler trusted him. It was Caleb and Pogue that the other two always came to first for anything and in this particular case Tyler had to know that Caleb was absolutely out of the question. He would scare and embarrass Tyler the moment the request was made, it wouldn’t be intentional, but it would still happen.

Pogue still wasn’t a sure thing, but Tyler was taking a chance that Pogue would agree. That Pogue would take care of him.

“Pogue,” Tyler says. “Come on, please?”

Pogue’s eyes sharpen on his face and then he leans to the side to stub out his cigarette in the ashtray by the bedside lamp. “You really want this, huh?” he says, sitting back up. He leans forward with his elbows on his knees and looks down into Tyler’s pretty face, considering his options. “If I say no, what are you gonna do?”

Tyler sighs and rocks back on his heels and then starts to stand like Pogue’s just given him his answer. “Find someone else, I guess.”

Without thinking about it, Pogue grabs his wrist and stops him. “Hold on a minute. Like who?”

“It doesn’t matter,” Tyler says.

“It mattered enough just a second ago,” Pogue points out. “Enough to have you—”

“Yeah, but you said no, so now it doesn’t,” Tyler snaps, wrenching his arm out of Pogue’s hand.

Pogue follows the motion by standing up and moving suddenly into Tyler’s space. The idea, the _picture_ in his head of Tyler yielding his body up into some careless stranger’s hands, forcing him into action. “I didn’t say no,” he says.

He steps into him and Tyler tips his head back to keep him in focus as Pogue puts one arm around his waist and runs his fingers up his back. Tyler’s skin is faintly clammy from the rain and it rises with goose bumps under the trail of Pogue’s warm, rough fingertips. Tyler sways toward him when Pogue gently presses his hand to the small of his back and he puts a hesitant hand on Pogue’s bare shoulder.

His fingers are sticky with the rain, too and for some reason this makes Pogue smile as he ducks his head and brushes his mouth over Tyler’s lips, which part with a surprised gasp at the kiss. Not even really a _kiss_ as kisses go, more a… test. A taste.

“Ah… okay,” Tyler says, running his tongue over his bottom lip with a frown. “Does that… _this_ mean…?”

Pogue smiles a little and leans down to breathe against the side of Tyler’s neck, below his ear. He smells like rainwater and clean skin with just a touch of nervous perspiration. “Whatever you want it to mean,” he murmurs. “I didn’t say no and I’m saying yes now, but, baby, you have to tell me just what you want so I’m sure.”

Tyler’s breathing quickens at the low rumble of Pogue’s voice in his ear and the shocking nearness of him. Given what he’s asked for, now he’s not completely sure what to do with it and he’s scared. “Everything,” he blurts before he can think about it and change his mind. “I want everything and I… I want you to stop calling me that, I’m not a baby.”

Pogue laughs and nips his ear lightly as he brings his hands up to thread his fingers through the back of Tyler’s hair. As he pulls his hands through, the damp hair sliding between his fingers just wet enough to stick and force Tyler’s head back a little, Pogue’s eyes bleed to black and it all goes dry, root to tip as he drags his fingers through it. The rush of magic warming his skin under Pogue’s fingers makes him shudder and Tyler forgets for a second that he’s nervous and wraps his arms around Pogue’s neck with a soft wanting sound.

Pogue brings his own hands up to cup Tyler’s face and lightly kisses him again. “Baby, baby, baby,” he whispers, chiding, as he walks Tyler backward to his bed.

Frustrated with the teasing kisses, Tyler pulls him in to kiss him deeply, his tongue pressing between Pogue’s lips to lick just as the backs of his knees hit the mattress and he falls. He instinctively tightens his hold on Pogue and brings him down to the bed on top of him. The springs squeak in protest and their weight makes them bounce before they settle; both of them laughing now and somehow most of the awkwardness is suddenly gone.

Still laughing softly, Tyler grabs the back f Pogue’s neck and pulls him down, pressing their smiling mouths together to coax him to open and kiss him. “You said yes, right?” he whispers.

Instead of answering him, Pogue kisses him. This kiss isn’t careful or cautious, there are no questions in it, it is deep and demanding, his tongue stroking to draw Tyler into it. Tyler responds instantly and opens his mouth under the press of Pogue’s tongue and the scrape of his teeth. A soft moan hums between them when Pogue lightly sucks at the tip of his tongue and heat slides down into Tyler’s belly.

Feeling Tyler squirm beneath him, Pogue lifts his head, breaking the kiss and stares down at him. He’s caught off guard by the stunning, visceral awareness of what they’re doing that slams into him and catches his breath. It’s Tyler under him, his body and heat, trembling and holding onto him with a look on his pretty face that Pogue never expected to see because they’re so like brothers. The thought, this thing that Tyler wants from him, had never occurred to him, but he can’t escape it now. It’s filthy in a lot of ways, but there’s something intensely erotic about it, too.

“Last chance to change your mind. Are you sure you wouldn‘t rather have a girl?” Pogue says, and even as he offers Tyler that out, he hopes to God he won’t take it.

Tyler swallows and lets out a shaky breath, but he shakes his head no.

“Alright,” Pogue says. He gets up from the bed because they’re still awkwardly hanging over the side of the mattress where they fell and opens the button of Tyler’s jeans with a quick jerk of his fingers.

Tyler’s breath hitches as Pogue stands back and starts to take off his own pants, watching him expectantly. “Ah… maybe I should…? Um… Pogue?”

“Uh-huh?” Pogue says, pausing with his fly down and his hand still on the tab of his zipper. He looks at Tyler, who’s nervous all over again, and lifts a questioning brow. “What?”

“I just…” Tyler pushes himself up and sits on the side of the bed. He runs a hand over the back of his neck and huffs out a breath. “I don’t know how this is supposed to work, okay? I don’t… you know, hang out in gay bars or watch a lot of queer porn, so I don’t… Shit, nevermind.”

Feeling it’s probably unwise to lay out the mechanics of it for him lest he should scare Tyler off the idea completely before he‘s had a chance to properly warm him up, Pogue runs his tongue over the back of his teeth thoughtfully, then shrugs. “First step, like with any sex, is get naked,” he says. He reaches over and swats Tyler’s thigh playfully. “Drop trou, baby.”

“Dude, I told you to stop that,” Tyler mutters. His heart isn’t really in the protest, though, and he shifts around on the bed to get his pants down and toe his shoes off, all without looking at Pogue.

Less self-conscious of his nudity than Tyler, Pogue finishes undressing and stands watching him as Tyler fumbles with his shoes and kicks them aside, then gets his rain-damp jeans off and drops them on the floor. There’s a flush rising high on his cheeks and his hands are shaking again and suddenly that urge to protect and take care of him rises up inside Pogue. He steps up to the bed again to stand in front of Tyler and when Tyler won’t look up at him, Pogue puts a hand under his chin and tips his head back.

“Scoot back,” Pogue says. When Tyler does, Pogue goes down on his knees on the bed between his legs and with light, petting touches, coaxes him into the middle of the mattress.

Tyler’s wide-eyed and shivering, twitching with every touch when Pogue finally stops him and runs a soothing hand up his chest. Under his hand, Tyler’s heart is beating heavily and Pogue makes a soft shushing sound as he leans over him and kisses him. Tyler reacts to that by hooking his arm around Pogue’s neck and kissing him back, making what would have been gentle turn into something more.

Reluctantly, Pogue nips the corner of his mouth to stop it, his hands going to Tyler’s sides to stroke, petting over his ribs, along the slight curve of his hips. “You need to calm down,” he says.

“I’m calm,” Tyler protests.

Pogue quirks a brow at him. “You’re lying,” he says.

“No, I…” Tyler sighs and closes his eyes for a second. When he opens them again, he tries to smile and moves his hand from the back of Pogue’s neck up into his hair, pressing with his fingers to urge him down. “Can we just… I don’t know. Can we just make out a little? I’m okay with that part. I kinda… I kinda like it.”

“This is your show,” Pogue says, lying down on his side by Tyler. Tyler follows him by turning onto his side to face him and Pogue slips an arm around his waist to pull him closer. “Come here.”

Tyler moves closer to him and when Pogue pushes against the small of his back, he moves closer still until their bellies touch. Pogue’s erection slides along Tyler’s hip, into the crease of his thigh and Tyler goes still.

“Hey,” Pogue says, drawing his attention back up as Tyler glances down. “Forget about that for now, huh?” He presses a quick kiss to Tyler’s mouth and strokes his fingers lazily along his spine.

“Okay,” Tyler says, settling against him.

He moves into Pogue’s teasing kisses just like before and takes over. Pogue allows it because the slow kisses distract him and he can feel Tyler relaxing in his arms just from that. He lets his kisses linger, long strokes of his tongue tangling with Tyler’s, little nips and light sucks to rouse desire in him too so he’s not alone in it. He _needs_ Tyler to want him back or, no matter what he says he wants, this isn’t going anywhere.

It’s when Tyler starts to touch him back that Pogue himself starts to relax. He hadn’t been aware that he needed that reassurance, but when Tyler runs his hands down Pogue’s side, fingers gently pulling at his hip, he feels better. _That_ is the real test of consent here and he knows it. He shifts into Tyler’s demanding fingers and mirrors him, hand going to his waist, over his hip to gently palm his ass, pulling Tyler more firmly against him.

A soft moan from Tyler vibrates on their tongues and Pogue smiles into the kiss as he lifts himself up more and changes the angle of it, trying to draw more of those sounds from his throat. The change of position has Pogue leaning over him but Tyler doesn’t even notice and Pogue is surprised into stillness when he moves one of his legs between Pogue’s and rocks against him. Before Tyler can sense his surprise and think he’s done something wrong, Pogue rocks back with his hand at the small of Tyler’s back holding him against him as he gently rolls his hips.

His breath hitching with excitement, Tyler breaks his mouth away from Pogue’s and rests his forehead on his shoulder, panting. He moans as they continue to rock against each other and Pogue nuzzles against the side of his neck, murmuring low, wordless sounds of encouragement and comfort to Tyler as he starts to whimper. Tyler’s fingers press deeper and deeper into his skin, the blunt little nails biting against Pogue’s back and the sounds he’s making aren’t distressed so much as frustrated.

There is desire in those sounds too and Pogue’s glad to hear it. He flicks his tongue over the curve of Tyler’s jaw, just below his ear, and smiles to feel him shiver. Sliding his free hand between them, he pets up Tyler’s belly to his chest and rolls the pad of his thumb over a nipple. Tyler presses his face into the curve of his shoulder and moans as Pogue moves his thumb over it, rubbing and pinching lightly when it stiffens under his fingers.

“You like that?” Pogue whispers, running his tongue over the shell of his ear as he speaks.

“Yeah,” Tyler says, breathless and overwhelmed.

Pogue shifts over him, carefully maneuvering Tyler onto his back beneath him on the bed and lowers his head to lick over the nipple he’s gently tugging. Tyler catches his breath at the sensation, arching when Pogue catches the nipple in his teeth and laves it with his tongue. He pauses as he’s kissing over Tyler’s chest to the other one and nips his collar bone.

“You alright?” Pogue asks.

Tyler swallows and nods. He puts a hand into the back of Pogue’s long hair and pets. “I’m… yeah.”

Pogue grins at him and puts his mouth over his other nipple, drawing it into his mouth against his teeth, sucking. Tyler cries out and his hand clenches in Pogue’s hair, pleasure rushing though him, carrying a flush over his pale skin.

Pogue lets go when Tyler tugs at his hair, whining insistently. He doesn’t stop though, just traces the pink path of Tyler’s blushing skin down over his stomach with his tongue. He strokes his hands down Tyler’s sides as he licks over his bellybutton, then scrapes his teeth over the fleshy part of his belly just to feel the muscles tense there. Aroused now and hard with it, Tyler’s cock rests against the side of Pogue’s throat as he licks and nips at Tyler’s belly. The teasing makes Tyler writhe and try to thrust toward him, seeking some kind of friction.

With a low chuckle, Pogue wraps his hand around Tyler’s cock and gently strokes him, pleased by the breathless little gasping sounds he makes when he does. He doesn’t do that for too long, though; partly because he’s afraid to make Tyler come too quickly and partly because he selfishly wants to be inside him when he does.

“Don’t stop,” Tyler hisses at him when he takes his hand away. He pulls at Pogue’s shoulders, squirming restlessly beneath him, his body alive with sensations he doesn’t know what to do with. “Please, don’t stop.”

“Shh, I’m not,” Pogue says, pressing a brief kiss to his panting mouth. “Calm down, I’m not.”

Carefully bracing his weight on one arm, Pogue moves up to lay over Tyler, his hips pressing Tyler down into the mattress a little. With his other hand he touches himself, his fingers becoming slick with his own precome as he bites his bottom lip to keep from moaning and focuses on the slickness of his fingers to remind himself to stop and not jerk himself off to completion.

“Pogue?” Tyler says, shifting under him, trying to tilt his head to see what he’s doing.

“It’s okay… I just,” he chuffs out a soft laugh and tosses his head, throwing his hair out of his face as he finally stops and lifts his hand to show Tyler his slippery fingers. “I don’t have anything else but condoms. They’re lubed, but it’s not enough. Grab me one out of that drawer there, will you?”

He nods to the nightstand over Tyler’s left shoulder and Tyler twists around to yank it open and dig through it, his fingers shaking as he finds a string of condoms and tosses them to Pogue. Pogue reaches across his body to grab them with his clean hand and tears one off with his teeth, then rips it open the same way.

Tyler’s breath quickens as he watches Pogue roll it on. “Pogue, ah… is… does this hurt?”

Pogue looks up at him through the hair that’s fallen over his eyes again and slowly shakes his head. “A little, maybe. You’ve never done it before, so it’ll hurt more, but it’s not bad.” He moves his slick fingers along the crack of Tyler’s ass as he speaks, keeping his voice soothing. “It’s opening up that’s the hardest part,” he murmurs, leaning over to brush a kiss over Tyler’s lips. He pushes his index finger inside him, feels Tyler’s body tighten around it instantly. “You have to relax,” he says. “You have to let me.”

Tyler closes his eyes for a second, like he’s bracing himself for something he just knows is going to be agonizing. After a little while, he nods. “Alright.”

“Okay, breathe,” Pogue says. He starts to slowly push his finger deeper. Tyler shudders and Pogue can feel his inner muscles contracting around his fingertip, but he does what he says and it becomes easier. “Just breathe. Does it hurt?”

“No,” Tyler says. He bites at his lips and shakes his head. “Burns a little, just… but it’s okay.”

“Okay,” Pogue says, and thrusts his finger the rest of the way. Tyler catches his breath, startled by it, but he’s not in pain so Pogue doesn’t stop. “Breathe for me, baby, don’t forget,” Pogue whispers, curving his finger inside him to stroke.

Pleasure spikes up his back and Tyler jerks, breath hissing through his teeth as his heart thunders on the back of his tongue. “Pogue… that,” he moans, shifting his hips to try and get closer to that sensation. “Do that again.”

Pogue flicks his finger over the spot again and watches Tyler twitch and tremble in reaction. “That?”

“Yeah,” Tyler says. His fingers tighten against Pogue’s shoulders and he instinctively starts to rock against Pogue’s hand. “God, what _is_ that?”

“Prostate,” Pogue says, smiling at him. When he has Tyler moving in a rhythm, lost in strange new feelings rising up inside him, Pogue pushes his middle finger inside him beside the other and starts to thrust them both over his prostate, drawing pleasure from him to make the little bit of pain more bearable.

When Pogue opens his fingers, spreading them against the resistance of muscle, Tyler tenses again and looks at him sharply. “Ow, okay that hurts,” he says.

“Try not to tense up,” Pogue says and just keeps doing it. He waits and after a few seconds, Tyler starts to relax again. As he stretches him, Pogue lets his fingertips brush against his prostate, adding a sense of urgency and pleasure to the discomfort. “You’re okay, huh?”

“Yeah,” Tyler says. He’s shivering and sometimes his body contracts around Pogue’s fingers, but he’s not moving against him now. “Hurts though, but not a lot. It’s okay.”

“You ready?” Pogue asks, dropping a kiss to his mouth as he withdraws his fingers. “Please be ready,” he adds, voice tinged with the strain of his own need held in check.

Tyler laughs against his mouth as he kisses him back. “Yeah, go for it,” he says.

Pogue laughs too, kissing him quickly. “Remember; relax,” he says, and rolls his hips forward, grinding lightly against Tyler as he pushes the head of his cock inside him.

Tyler bites down on his bottom lip and takes a deep, calming breath, letting it out as Pogue slowly thrusts all the way inside him. Once he’s in, with Tyler’s tight body squeezing around him, Pogue just stops and rests his head on Tyler’s shoulder, letting him adjust to the penetration and allowing himself the chance to catch his breath.

Tyler turns his head and nuzzles Pogue’s cheek. “You okay?” he asks.

Pogue smiles and nuzzles back, catching his mouth in a kiss. “I should be asking you that,” he says.

Tyler shrugs one shoulder. “It’s kinda weird, but it’s okay,” he says, squirming a little, uncomfortable with the strange fullness.

Pogue laughs, his breath hitching around it as Tyler’s restless movements send fingers of pleasure through his belly. “Ty, be still,” he pants, instinctively thrusting against him before he can make himself stop.

Tyler moans and his fingers become sharp against the back of Pogue’s shoulders. “I may be new at this… but I think you’re supposed to _move_ ,” he gasps, lifting up to push down on Pogue’s cock.

“Jesus,” Pogue hisses, catching Tyler’s hips in his hands to stop him. He swallows, tastes the vibration of his heartbeat itching in his throat and tilts Tyler’s hips back, seeking a better angle.

Tyler pants, little half-pain, half-wanting sounds in his throat as Pogue shifts inside him. “God… Fuck, just move,” he says, lifting his belly up against Pogue’s, trying to force him to thrust.

“Yeah, I’m going to,” Pogue says, voice strained. Christ, he’s not a virgin himself or anything, but he’s only seventeen and he’s _trying_ to be good for Tyler, but Tyler is just not helping. Pogue likes to think he’s got really remarkable control, but he’s close to losing it because every time Tyler’s body tightens around him or he moves, all he wants to do is fuck him through the mattress.

With a soft growling sound of frustration, Tyler grabs Pogue’s face in his hands and makes him meet his eyes. “I’m not a girl, I’m not gonna break,” he says. He hooks a leg over Pogue’s hip and presses his heel into the small of his back to pull him closer, force him deep. “If you don’t move…”

Pogue snaps his hips once, hard against Tyler’s ass, forcing a surprised grunt from him. “Fine,” he says, hooking one arm under Tyler to lift him up, raking his sweat-damp hair out of his face with the other. “You let me know if I’m hurting you though, you got me? I‘m not exactly Don Juan or anything and virgins ain‘t really my thing, so I don‘t…”

Laughing breathlessly, Tyler pulls him down to kiss him, rocking against him encouragingly. “Oh my god, shut up,” he whispers, biting lightly at Pogue’s mouth. “You’re more nervous than I am. Just do it.”

Pogue touches his forehead briefly to Tyler’s, watching his face, and cautiously starts to move, tightening his arm around Tyler’s waist as he works his hips. “Put your other leg up,” he says, pulling at Tyler’s thigh until he wraps his legs together around Pogue’s hips.

With Tyler’s legs around him, Pogue cups his other hand against the back of his neck and leans over him to kiss him. The change of angle allows him to slide in and out of Tyler’s body more smoothly and he takes up a slow, deep rhythm. He flexes his fingers against Tyler’s lower back as he moves, helping him to follow his thrusts. It takes him a few tries, but Tyler’s strong and he’s always been a quick learner and fast to follow Pogue’s lead, so they’re soon moving in a strange kind of harmony.

He finds Tyler’s prostate on the outstroke and Tyler bucks against him, arching off the bed with a sharp cry. Thrilling to the sound and Tyler’s reaction, Pogue quickens his pace, his arm slipping from around his waist so he can hold his hips steady and stroke over that spot again and again. Tyler’s matching rhythm falters as he reacts to his own pleasure, but Pogue just hefts Tyler’s weight under his thighs and takes over, his thrusts jarring a little, making the moans and whimpers in Tyler’s throat break into soft cries as his mouth falls open.

Shushing him, Pogue brings one hand up to touch his fingers to Tyler’s mouth. “You’re going to wake my mother,” he whispers, slowing his movements to get his other arm around Tyler’s waist again to hold him. “Hush. I got you.”

“Yeah, you do,” Tyler whispers back. He moans and licks at Pogue’s fingers over his mouth, then catches the tip of the middle one lightly in his teeth.

“Fuck,” Pogue hisses, sudden, possessive desire taking him by surprise. Tyler releases his finger to throw his head back as Pogue snaps his hips against his ass once hard, before forcing himself to slow again.

Tyler sucks his bottom lip between his teeth as he moans, muffling it, and thrusts against him, his breath hitching. “Harder,” he gasps. “Come on.”

That possessiveness rises up inside him stronger and Pogue kisses him, growling into his mouth as he obeys and throws his weight behind his thrusts. He takes his hand away from Tyler’s mouth to grab the top edge of the mattress for leverage and drives his hips against Tyler’s ass until he can feel the force of every thrust pressing against his hipbones and the noise Tyler’s making can’t even be properly muffled by a kiss. High, keening cries that break with every inward thrust make Tyler’s breath hitch in Pogue’s mouth as he sucks at his tongue and bottom lip, and he’s never been this rough before but he _knows_ Tyler can take it. His body’s more lean, whipcord muscle than Kate’s, somehow more solid, less soft and delicate and Pogue doesn’t have to be nearly as careful. He loves knowing this, loves finding it to be true every time he thinks he’s done too much and Tyler only tightens his legs around his waist and bucks beneath him, twisting his hands in the covers by his hips to stop himself sliding up the bed.

Tyler turns his head, breaking his mouth away from Pogue’s, panting harshly, only to bite down on his own lip to keep from screaming when Pogue moves his mouth to the base of his throat to lick, hunching his shoulders into his thrusts. There’s a deep sound in Pogue’s throat that vibrates on the back of Tyler’s tongue and he can hardly believe it’s a growl, but he doesn’t know what else to call it. It makes goose bumps rise on his flushed skin and the demanding, _branding_ way Pogue’s holding him, touching him, _fucking_ him has his mind and body flashing brilliant with pleasure.

Then Pogue runs his tongue under Tyler’s chin and nips, whispers, “Mine,” with that growling sound still in his throat. “Now you’re mine, baby boy,” he says, voice ragged and rasping and that’s just it. Tyler lets go of the blankets, wraps his arms around Pogue’s neck and comes. He remembers at the last second that Pogue’s mother is sleeping down the hall and pushes his face into the curve of Pogue’s sweaty shoulder to muffle the shout that is ripped from him with his orgasm, but he’s not sure it matters.

Tyler’s orgasm makes his body tighten around Pogue’s cock as he tenses and Pogue moans, hips stuttering to a stop for a moment before he makes himself keep moving, fucking Tyler through it as he shivers and cries out against his neck. He nuzzles Tyler’s cheek, panting soft nonsense in his ear and tasting the sweat on his lips from the wet hair at his temple, soothing Tyler through the aftershocks as he now seeks his own pleasure.

When it happens Tyler’s pressing gentle, almost shy kisses along his shoulders, his hands have slid down Pogue’s back to stroke at the base of his spine, feeling the muscles along his back bunch as he thrusts. He’s quiet now, except for the little grunting sounds Pogue’s movements force from his throat, and his breath falls in warm puffs on Pogue’s damp skin. Then it just happens, pleasure blossoms slow like a flower of blood in water under Tyler’s massaging fingers and streaks through him, drawing every muscle in his body tight and trembling as Pogue comes. He kisses Tyler as it happens, his own cries lost in the tangle of their tongues and holds him tightly until it’s over.

He tries not to slump his weight down on Tyler when the pleasure of his orgasm fizzles out, but he doesn’t quite manage it. Tyler shifts around beneath him to get comfortable, but doesn’t say anything bitchy about how heavy he is, so Pogue stays there, catching his breath while his heart stops racing. “You okay?” he asks Tyler quietly after a minute.

Tyler lets out a deep sigh and nods. Pogue can feel the movement of it jostle against his cheek. “Yeah,” he says. “Yeah, I’m… good.”

“You want a shower?” Pogue mumbles, mouthing at Tyler’s jaw below his ear.

“I don’t want to move for the rest of my life,” Tyler says with a soft laugh. He turns his head to stop Pogue’s nuzzling with a slow kiss. “But yeah, I need to. Got to go.”

“You could stay over,” Pogue offers. And it’s just that, nothing else. They’ve stayed over at each other’s houses off and on their whole lives and while his mother might find Tyler screaming the damn roof down a little bizarre, she wouldn’t think anything of finding him at the breakfast table in the morning. And after all, it is still raining.

“I don’t think I should,” Tyler says, shifting up onto his elbows so that Pogue has to lift himself up. “I’ll take a shower, though.”

Pogue nods and rolls his hips back, withdrawing from Tyler’s body to flop onto his back. He starts to close his eyes and drift off, but instead he gets up from the bed and goes into his bathroom to throw away the condom and wipe himself off with a washcloth. He looks up as he’s cleaning the come off his stomach to see Tyler in the mirror watching him from the doorway.

“Towels are in the cupboard,” he says. He rinses the washcloth off and tosses it in the hamper on his way by Tyler back into the bedroom.

“Ah… I know where they are,” Tyler mutters. He turns in the doorway to look at Pogue as he crawls back onto the bed. “Pogue?”

Pogue pulls a pillow under his chin and wraps his arms around it, but he opens one eye in acknowledgement. “Hmm?”

Tyler rubs at the back of his neck, not meeting his eyes. “Just… Um. Thanks, that’s all,” he says.

Pogue grunts an affirmative into his pillow and closes both eyes. “Any time,” he mumbles. “I’m gonna nap for a bit now. You want to stay, you can. You don’t… that’s up to you. But hey, Ty? Use the door on your way out, huh?”

Tyler’s lips quirk in a little smile at that. “Sure, Pogue,” he says and goes into the bathroom. “Good night,” he adds, and closes the door.

~~*~~

Pogue doesn’t see Tyler again until classes break for lunch the next day. Caleb’s taking Sarah out to lunch and the way they’re mooning over each other suggests they might not come back after they eat. Shaking his head with an amused and pleased grin, he leaves them in the hall by the stairs and decides to stay on the campus himself rather than spend his lunch hour commuting between the academy and his house.

He gets a sandwich and a bag of potato chips at the counter and pops the tab on a can of cola as he looks for a table. He sees Tyler at a table by the wall with Reid and Kate, so he goes over. “Hey, baby,” he says by way of greeting as he takes the chair beside Kate.

“Hey,” Kate and Tyler say at the same time and Reid laughs.

Kate leans in automatically to kiss him and Pogue, just as automatically, turns his face and takes the kiss on his cheek instead of his mouth. Kate frowns a little, but then she smiles and sits back, putting it down to his avoidance of public displays of affection.

Tyler glances from Pogue to Kate before he flushes and drops his eyes back to his lunch. Pogue smiles over at him, watching Tyler eat as he drinks his Coke until he realizes he’s doing it with this strange, warm feeling of pleasure at being near him and he looks up to find Reid watching him with raised eyebrows. Reid must think he’s just daydreaming or zoning out, though, because he doesn’t mention it and being Reid, if he thought anything of it, he would.

“So what are we doing tonight?” Reid says, eating a few fries with ketchup.

“Whatever you want, I’m not your nanny,” Pogue says. He takes a bite of his sandwich and slouches down in his chair, his eyes unconsciously straying to Tyler as he chews. “Why? You got something in mind?”

Reid leans in a little, elbows on the table and fingers steepled against his bottom lip. “I was thinking we could go over to Nicky’s and hustle a little pool,” he says, eyes alight with mischief. “There’s this new combo I wanted to try—”

“Uh-huh and how long you think you can keep pulling off those awesome combos before someone starts to wonder?” Pogue says. “Besides, Caleb will kick your ass, you keep using like that.”

Reid scowls at him and sits back. “I thought you just said you’re not my fucking nanny,” he says, annoyed. “Anyway, Caleb won’t be there. He’s taking Sarah to the movies.”

Which is why Reid wanted to play tonight, Pogue guesses. He can understand it to a degree, too. It does feel good to use the power they have, to flex those mental muscles at the world once in a while. Which is why, he knows, it was so addictive. Doing what they were made to do felt good and it was only right that it should, but it’s so, _so_ dangerous and Pogue doesn’t need Caleb standing over his shoulder to tell him that.

He’s met Caleb’s father and with his own father dead a few years earlier at the age of 40 and his mother still grieving, he still can’t honestly say he would trade places with his friend. Caleb’s father is a living example of what too much power can do in hands that don’t appreciate it.

He also doesn’t need Reid going off half-cocked and unescorted to Nicky’s. Both he and Tyler could get hurt or into a lot of trouble. “Fine, I’ll go,” Pogue says.

Kate makes a soft sound of protest and looks at him. “But… Nevermind.”

Pogue quirks a brow at her and opens his potato chips. “What?” he says, eating one.

“Nothing,” Kate says. She’s quiet for a minute in which Pogue exchanges a look with Reid, who just shrugs and shakes his head. “It’s just… I thought we could go to the movies with Caleb and Sarah,” Kate says.

Pogue notices Tyler from the corners of his eyes shifting uncomfortably on the other side of the table and he wonders at that, but Tyler doesn’t say anything or even look up, so he doesn’t know what that’s even about. He considers asking, but they’re not alone and Tyler might not answer him or he might lie if he asked now, so he doesn’t. He eats another potato chip and returns his attention to Kate, who also isn’t looking at him. There’s a lot of that going around today.

He exchanges another look with Reid and mouths, _What the hell?_ at him. He receives another shrug and a bewildered shake of Reid’s head in response.

“You know, like a double date?” Kate says, finally looking at him. She smiles and in a moment of true affection for her, Pogue reaches over and pushes a lock of her dark hair behind her ear.

Tyler’s chair suddenly scrapes back from the table and he gets up, gathering the trash from his lunch and hefting his bag over his shoulder without a word. Pogue watches him with narrowed eyes, but he doesn’t say anything, though his fingers itch with the desire to grab him and stop him so he can ask him—no, _demand to know_ —what the hell is going on with him.

“I just thought it would be fun,” Kate finishes lamely.

“How about tomorrow night instead?” Pogue offers, following Tyler with his eyes as Tyler throws his trash away and leaves. “What the fuck just happened?” he suddenly demands of Reid.

Reid gives him that same bewildered look and lifts his hands then drops them. “He’s been weird all day,” he says. “He was out all night last night then came in this morning about one and wouldn’t even tell me _anything_ , man. Then he woke up like some kind of fucking chick on the rag. Sorry,” he says, remembering Kate.

Kate just smiles at him vaguely and shakes her head. She’s used to Reid.

“Anyway, _moody_ ,” Reid says.

Pogue frowns and eats his sandwich.

“You think maybe he’s on drugs?” Reid says suddenly.

Pogue laughs and throws his sandwich wrapper at Reid’s head. “Don’t be an idiot,” he says.

“Too late,” Kate says.

Reid puts his hand over his heart and gives her a sorrowful look. “That wounds me, Kate,” he says solemnly. “Truly, it does.”

“Uh-huh,” Kate says, standing up to go put her dirty plate away. “I rest my case. You boys have fun tonight,” she adds, leaning over to kiss Pogue goodbye.

Pogue lets the kiss fall on his mouth this time though he doesn’t open to it. “Tomorrow night, I promise,” he says.

“And I intend to hold you to it,” Kate says, giving him a brilliant smile. It’s a familiar smile, one that forgives him for being one of the boys, even if it still manages to convey her disappointment.

Pogue hates that smile. It makes him antsy and feeling a little bit guilty. “Wear that white dress,” he says. “We’ll go to dinner first.”

Kate’s smile widens and whatever knowing thing that’s in it that makes him feel guilty slips away. “The one with the low neckline or the silk one?”

“Depends on if you want fillet mignon or burgers,” Pogue says, amused by the flirtatious question.

“I’ll think about it,” Kate says. “Call you later,” she adds and leaves them there to dispose of her dirty dishes.

“Girls are weird,” Reid says when she’s gone.

Pogue slides his eyes to him and grins. “And this would be why you never get laid.”

“Whatever you say,” Reid scoffs.

Pogue snorts and gets up. “I’ll see you later,” he says.

“In gym, yeah,” Reid says, putting his feet up on Tyler’s vacated chair and staying right where he is. “We’ll pick you up at six.”

“Sure, whatever,” Pogue says and leaves, his mind wandering again to Tyler.

It’s a problem, one that he thinks should be fairly easy to figure out, but the solution to which eludes him. It wasn’t supposed to be a problem. Hell, it wasn’t supposed to be _anything_ , but he guesses he should have known better than that right from the start. He lets himself think about the night before, how, once they were _right there_ , it was just so easy. He’d liked that a lot and that’s the part that still lingers now when all the sweat has been washed away and the afterglow has worn off. It had just been so easy to be what Tyler needed, to lay with him and touch him, to _laugh_ about it.

With Kate, everything feels like work. Talking or not talking, taking her out or not taking her out, agreeing with her or disagreeing with her; it’s always like he’s one step away from fucking up unforgivably. And he loves her, that’s the thing. He’s loved her since the first kiss, one he stole one day in the back of the library while she was looking for a book of poetry by Plath. He doesn’t remember if she ever found it.

But Tyler… He’s loved Tyler his whole life. Not in _that_ way, no, but love just the same; even deeper. And he shouldn’t be comparing Tyler and what they did on any kind of level with Kate, but he is. He can’t help it because no matter what Tyler said and no matter what Pogue tells himself, right there beside Kate is where this thing with Tyler belongs. He doesn’t know exactly what Tyler’s problem is, but he thinks it probably has something to do with that. He thinks that maybe Tyler didn’t fully understand what he was asking for when he crawled in Pogue’s window and demanded to be relieved of his virginity. But then Pogue also thinks that maybe he didn’t fully understand what he was agreeing to either.

“Shit,” Pogue mutters, dragging his hands through his hair as he stops right there in the hallway and leans back against the wall. “Shit,” he repeats softly.

~~*~~

That night at Nicky’s, it takes Reid “losing” three games of eight-ball to Pogue before someone takes the bait and challenges him to a game for stakes. “I got a better offer, boys. I’ll catch you later,” Reid says jovially and leaves Tyler and Pogue to go cheat a few unsuspecting jocks out of their allowance.

Pogue shakes his head and shoots the nine ball into the left corner pocket, then stands back and regards Tyler over the table. “You wanna play?” he asks.

Tyler shrugs. “I guess,” he says. “Nothing else to do.”

Pogue nods. He takes his cigarettes out of the pocket of his coat, then throws the coat back down in his chair and lights one with a match as he leans against the pool table, watching Tyler, who will _not_ look at him. He’s been trying to get him to for the last hour without much success. He waves his hand, extinguishing the match and then racks up the balls. “Eight-ball still alright with you?” Pogue asks.

“Sure,” Tyler says.

“You wanna break?” Pogue says.

Tyler shakes his head no.

Pogue sighs and leans down to take the first shot, breaking the balls apart over the table. “You want to talk about it?”

Tyler’s eyes shoot to him and their gazes lock for a moment before he turns his head. “Nothing to talk about.”

And that is such a pissed off chick thing to say that Pogue almost laughs. He doesn’t though; he just smiles and takes his cigarette out of his mouth, exhaling through his nose as he leans down to sight in his shot. “It might make you feel better,” he suggests and knocks the three and the seven into pockets in opposite corners.

“Trust me, it won’t,” Tyler says.

“Well,” Pogue says, straightening to go around the table, “You better figure it out and get a hold of yourself or someone’s gonna notice. Probably Reid.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Tyler says.

Pogue can feel Tyler’s bright blue eyes boring into the back of his neck as he leans over right in front of him and takes a shot, which he misses. “Sure you do,” he says, straightening. He lowers his voice to a soft whisper as he goes around Tyler to let him have his turn. “Your turn, baby.”

“Don’t _call_ me that,” Tyler says through gritted teeth as he walks by him.

Everything Tyler says and does, right down to the set of his tense little shoulders, tell Pogue that he’s half spoiling for a fight. Pogue watches him as he goes around to the head of the table and leans down to line up his shot and he gives serious consideration to letting that happen. He would never hit Tyler, but he could hurt him with a few well-placed words and end this, all of it, right here if he wanted.

Instead, he watches the cue snap forward, sliding over Tyler’s hand, taking out the ten and sending the thirteen across the table where it perches on the very edge of the left corner pocket. Tyler’s eyes flash with the power and the ball drops in.

Pogue makes a _tsk_ ing sound against the back of his teeth and flicks his cigarette ashes on the floor, his eyes piercing and intent on Tyler. “Now that’s not fair,” Pogue says. “And weren’t you the one that told Caleb it’s not right to use on each other?

Tyler looks up at him and frowns apologetically. “Sorry, I didn’t even think… Sorry,” he finishes lamely.

Pogue makes a grunting sound of assent and walks around the table to stand behind Tyler. “There’s no skill in winning if you have to use to do it,” he says. “Now, look, line up your next shot and let me show you.”

Tyler starts to turn, shaking his head. “I don’t need you to—”

“Ty,” Pogue says, stopping his protestation with a hand on his shoulder. “Chill out.”

“Pogue, don’t—”

Pogue moves up against his back and inhales the smell of him, soap and nervous sweat. He thinks about all the things he could say that would go right to Tyler’s heart and wound him, end this shit they’re in and probably a whole lot more. He thinks about it and breathes him in, not saying a word because that’s not what he wants from Tyler. He leans around Tyler to put his cigarette out in the ashtray on the edge of the pool table and touches his hand to the curve of his waist briefly. “Alright, now lean down and pick your shot.”

Tyler does what he says, but as Pogue watches him and sees the way his hands shake, he thinks Tyler’s probably not even thinking about the game now and the knowledge makes him smile. His fingers itch with the possessive urge to lay his hands on him, so he does, leaning over Tyler’s back to change his grip on the cue. “Which ball are you aiming for?” he murmurs.

Tyler’s breath hitches and he shivers, his throat working as he swallows before he says, “The… The yellow one.”

Pogue smiles and shifts against him and they’re touching with Pogue’s chest and belly covering Tyler along his back, his ass fitted right up against Pogue’s hips. _This_ , just this and maybe a little more of that laughter; that’s what Pogue really wants. Neither one of them are paying any attention to the game anymore, it’s all pretense and they both know it, but Pogue pushes against him and with his hands on Tyler’s, makes the shot for him. “Nine in right middle pocket,” he whispers and Tyler makes a sound in his throat, squirming back against him. “See how easy that was?”

“Yeah,” Tyler says with a touch of a whine in his voice as his fingers clench around the pool cue.

Pogue turns his head and his mouth is right against Tyler’s ear, his breath warm against the side of his neck. Tyler trembles and his eyes fall closed. “You want to talk about it now?” Pogue murmurs.

Tyler swallows and shakes his head no. Pogue moves, pressing his hips more firmly against Tyler’s ass and Tyler drops his cue with a muffled clatter on the green felt table. The urge to lick and bite and _fuck_ him right there is so strong that Pogue’s hands actually drop to Tyler’s hips for a moment and a low growling sound rises in his throat before he tears himself away.

He lets Tyler go and turns, raking a hand through his hair as he shoves blindly between people and tables, through the bar and into the men’s room. The door thumps closed behind him and Pogue goes over to the nearest sink, turns it on and cups his hands under the cold water. He hears the hinges of the door squeaking as it’s opened behind him, but he’s holding his face in the water in his hands.

When he lets the water splash back into the sink and wipes his arm across his eyes to clear them, the first thing he sees is graffiti on the wall by the mirror. _You have to draw the line somewhere_ written in permanent marker under a line drawn by what looks like a hand that was shaking. He wonders what the hell kind of people carry permanent markers around in their pockets when they go to take a piss in the bathroom at Nicky’s.

He shifts his gaze back to his own eyes staring back at him from the mirror and catches Tyler watching him from the door in the unclear reflection of the polished steel and shakes his head. “What are you doing?” he says and Pogue’s not entirely sure if he’s asking Tyler or asking himself.

Tyler doesn’t answer and they stare at each other like that for what feels like a long time. Tyler looks scared, Pogue thinks, but then he can only imagine what he looks like to Tyler. He expects Tyler to run because the way he’s standing and the bright shine of his eyes give every indication that he will, but he just walks a little further into the room, closer to Pogue.

“Don’t,” Pogue says, voice sharp in the small, enclosed space.

Tyler shakes his head and just keeps coming and Pogue turns away from the sink and grabs him. With his body against Tyler’s slighter one, he shoves him back against the sink until Tyler’s almost sitting in it with his back against the steel mirror. Pogue’s hands are under his shirt, calloused fingers scraping up his back to hold him as he takes Tyler’s mouth with a growling, demanding kiss. Tyler’s hands fly to his shoulders, drag up his neck to hold on while Pogue urges his mouth open with his tongue and bites lightly at his lips, but Tyler yields to it all and pulls Pogue closer, so he doesn’t stop.

Pogue sucks at his tongue, drawing a moan from Tyler that has Pogue’s hands going to the fly of Tyler’s jeans and fumbling with the button to get it open. Tyler tilts his head and sucks back before he breaks the kiss by turning his head to gasp for breath. Pogue runs sucking, biting kisses down his neck as Tyler’s head falls back against the mirror, then he has the fly of Tyler’s pants down and his hand slides inside, along the inside of his thigh.

“God, I want to fuck you,” Pogue murmurs against Tyler’s throat. His hands against Tyler’s warm skin are shaking and the more he keeps touching him, the more he knows Tyler can feel it. “Tyler?”

Tyler moans and lifts his head away from the mirror, his fingers half petting, half pulling in Pogue’s hair. “I want you to,” he whispers.

“This was _not_ supposed to happen,” Pogue says roughly, but he’s not stopping now. He’s standing back from the sink and pulling Tyler with him, kissing him again. He stops the kiss just as Tyler starts to go pliant in his arms and turns him, pushing him over the sink and nuzzling against the back of his neck as his hands fumble with his own fly. “I never should have touched you,” he whispers against the back of Tyler’s ear, even as he hooks his fingers over the back of Tyler’s waistband and yanks his jeans down to his thighs, baring his ass.

Tyler braces one hand on the sink and the other on the wall by the mirror, body suddenly tense and shaking with mingling anticipation and fear. He meets his own eyes in the blurry mirror before he drops his head, breathing in gasps and pants as Pogue pushes the back of his shirt up and nips at his skin along his spine. His rough hands are suddenly gone as Pogue jerks open his belt and pushes at his own pants and Tyler shivers as cold air makes his skin pebble with goose bumps.

Pogue leaves the red mark of a sucking kiss between Tyler’s shoulders as he takes the tube of lube he bought earlier out of his pocket and flicks it open with his thumb. “Not going to hurt you,” he murmurs, lifting his head and straightening to kiss the side of Tyler’s neck. “Bought some KY at the grocery by the house. Not because I _planned_ this, I swear to—”

“Pogue, shut up,” Tyler says, turning his head toward him, eyes suddenly alight with amusement. Their breath puffs warm along their cheeks and down their chins and in the cold of the bar’s bathroom it makes them both shiver even more. “I get it. Hurry up.”

Pogue squeezes some of the lube onto his fingers and hooks his other arm around Tyler’s waist, his hand pressing flat to his hip to urge him back as he pushes his first finger inside Tyler’s ass. “Spread your legs for me, baby boy,” Pogue says, licking the shell of his ear as he immediately presses another finger in beside the first and begins to stroke.

Tyler shudders at his voice in his ear and a chill follows Pogue’s breath along the back of his neck, but he obeys and rocks forward with a cry as Pogue bends his fingers and thrusts his hips against the back of his hand, stroking them deep. “Jesus, be careful,” Tyler whispers, biting at his lips in pleasure even as it aches. “I’m… kinda sore. Just… oh shit. Nevermind.”

“Shh, you’re okay,” Pogue whispers, opening him with his fingers as carefully as he can with the urgency required by their timing and the danger of being discovered. “I’m gonna open my fingers now, so just relax. Remember to breathe.”

Tyler nods and shifts forward more, bracing his forearm on the wall instead of his hand. Pogue spreads his fingers in quick scissoring motions and adds a third finger, twists, and Tyler whines, instinctively rocking back against him as pleasure finds its way through the aching burn of what he’s doing. “Pogue, hurry,” Tyler pants, turning his head to find Pogue’s mouth right there. He kisses him quickly and thrusts back on his hand, moaning. “Hurry, someone… Reid will…”

Shushing him, Pogue slicks lube over his cock and carefully guides himself inside Tyler’s ass. He pushes his hips forward, penetrating him with just the head at first, waiting for him to remember and relax. “It’s okay, I’ll scare the living shit out of Reid if he dares…” Pogue whispers. Tyler laughs and with a possessive nip to his shoulder, Pogue thrusts into him.

Tyler’s hand leaves the edge of the sink and he bites down on his knuckles around a shout, skin shivering all over and muscles along his sides twitching under Pogue’s hands. Pogue pets up his back, fingers lube-sticky on his skin as he tries to sooth him even as he pulls Tyler’s hips back with his other hand and starts to fuck him with quick, deep strokes. It’s easier this way, lubricated and without the care that had to be taken that first time, but Tyler’s body is tender from being used the night before and still exquisitely tight around him, so even as Pogue allows himself to be less gentle than before, he’s careful. It’s a tenuous line, but he manages it and Tyler moans and whimpers against his own knuckles, the sounds all pleasure.

When he has more control over himself, Tyler takes his hand away from his mouth and slaps it to the mirror so he can push back and meet Pogue‘s thrusts. That first thrust where Tyler meets him half way startles Pogue and is a little harder than he intended it to be because he wasn’t expecting it, but he goes with it, adjusting his rhythm to compensate until they’re moving together. He drops his forehead to Tyler’s back as they move, feeling the soft knit of his sweater turn rough against his face, wishing like hell he could rip it off, but he can’t strip him here and he knows it. Mouthing against the back of Tyler’s neck instead, into the fine hairs there to taste his sweat, Pogue lets go of his hips and runs the palms of his hands around, up Tyler’s chest to cup his shoulders. He uses that for his leverage and because Tyler rolls his hips back against him eagerly, it’s all he needs.

In the bar beyond the bathroom, the jukebox starts playing, something with a bass that crashes and vibrates against the walls. It has both of them looking around, urgency spiking through them both, making the pleasure pulsing in their bodies slightly bitter.

“Touch yourself,” Pogue whispers and nips Tyler’s earlobe. “Come on. We have to hurry.”

Tyler gasps and trembles against him, thrusting back on his cock with a moan and it occurs to Pogue in that moment that Tyler might be _his_ just like he claimed, growling it into Tyler‘s skin as he came that first time, but what he didn‘t realize… what he never counted on was how everything had come together to this point, a dirty fuck in the restroom of a bar, sure, but he belongs to Tyler, too. There‘s just no getting around that. By owning him, he’s in turn owned and it’s like a hand on his heart when he realizes it. It’s a strange, inconvenient time for an epiphany, but the knowledge doesn’t scare him quite as bad as Pogue expects it to. It actually leaves an odd, residual heat in his belly.

“Tyler,” Pogue growls, his arms tightening against his chest, holding Tyler more firmly back against him. “Touch yourself,” he repeats. “Come on, baby, come for me.”

Whimpering around his harsh, shuddering breath, Tyler nods and drops his hand from the mirror to wrap his fingers around his own dick and jerk himself off. Pogue makes a low murmuring sound of approval against the back of his neck and presses kisses there as he picks up his pace, snapping his hips against Tyler’s ass with quick thrusts that jar them, driving them both rapidly toward orgasm.

Tyler lets his forehead rest against the mirror, moans hitching in his throat with Pogue’s thrusts. His face is flushed and the sweat on his brow smears the mirror, his breath making it fog as he pants and gasps. When Pogue releases him with one arm for a moment to push his hair back from his face, Tyler tips his head toward the brush of his fingertips with a soft sound of want.

Pogue watches him as he fucks him, marvels at how beautifully decadent and filthy he is pushed over that sink with his face to the cheap mirror, his skin flushed and beaded with sweat, his mouth open and gasping, eyes closed in pleasure with eyelashes like the dark fans of dancers resting on his cheeks as his shoulder jerks with the tugs of his own hand on his cock. Pogue moans into the back of Tyler’s shoulder, taking his hand away from his face to reach back around him and hold him close again, and breathes in the scent of him. The smell of expensively laundered acrylic fibers, the smoke from the bar, the tang of his own sweat and Pogue’s, too, only fainter.

The emotion that rises up in him then, more powerful than the carnal yearning, is surprising and unexpected affection. It’s affection built on the history of a thousand conversations, glances, casual touches, until a love like that of siblings built between them like a great bridge of stone. It happened a long, long time ago without either of them—any of them—even realizing it. Those memories flash in the back of his mind and that love is so close, touchably so. He watches the sweat slide down Tyler’s throat and that affection is suddenly interchangeably linked with another kind, something that belongs only to him.

Tyler throws his head back on Pogue’s shoulder as he comes, biting his bottom lip viciously in an attempt to hold in his cry of release. He’s only half successful, but Pogue doesn’t even try to silence him. He presses soothing kisses along his jaw and the side of his neck as Tyler’s body contracts around him and Pogue pants and moans around his own pleasure, fucking him through it while Tyler’s still shaking from his orgasm. Tyler’s hand drops from the wall and he reaches back to grab Pogue’s hip and pull him in, dragging him hard against him. Pogue moves into it, thrusting hard and fast into his ass so that Tyler has to grab the sink to brace himself again.

He’s still whimpering and panting, but he’s whispering to Pogue now. Whispering, “Come on, come on, yes,” over and over in a softly urgent gasping voice that has a deeply aroused shiver running up the back of Pogue’s neck.

Pogue pulls Tyler against him roughly when he comes, pushing deep inside him and grinding as his orgasm sends shocks of pleasure rushing through him. He buries his face in Tyler’s sweater against his back and moans, shivering as he comes and hears Tyler’s breath catch at the new, unfamiliar sensation, his softly gasped, “Oh,” as it fills him.

Pogue allows himself to slump for a few seconds over Tyler’s back, Tyler himself resting over the cold porcelain sink and shivering beneath him. But a few seconds is all he’s allowed, he knows and once he’s drawn a few steadying breaths Pogue forces himself up and carefully withdraws from Tyler’s body.

“Fuck,” he mutters, pulling a handful of rough paper towels from the dispenser by the sink to clean himself off with.

Tyler stays where he is for a few seconds just breathing and trying to make himself stop shivering then he takes a deep, steadying breath and stands away from the sink. “Pogue, we should… talk,” he says, straightening his sweater, which got a little twisted around his chest.

Pogue thrusts another handful of paper towels at him without a word and turns on the water in the sink to wash his face.

Tyler looks at the towels in his hand for a puzzled second then feels the cooling slide of come down the back of his thighs and flushes with embarrassment as he uses them to clean himself off. It doesn’t work that well because he still has come inside him, leaking out of his body, but it works for now. He finishes with the paper towels while Pogue runs his wet hands through his long faun brown hair and watches Tyler in the mirror. When Tyler looks up, he catches Pogue’s eyes on him and his reaction to that, just that, is like a punch in the gut.

“We need to talk,” Tyler says again, stuffing the paper towels in the trash can. Pogue shakes his head, though it doesn’t seem like a “no”, so Tyler presses on. “I think—”

The door slams against the wall as a tall boy with blond hair and freckles walks in, bringing the thump of music with him. “Oh, hey, I didn’t… uh. I’ll just wait outside. Sorry,” the boy says, and backs out of the bathroom.

Pogue watches him leave with raised brows then reaches over and zips Tyler’s pants for him. “We’ll talk about it later,” he says, lips quirking with amusement as Tyler looks blankly down at himself and mutters, “Shit,” under his breath.

Pogue starts for the door, but he pauses when Tyler says, “Wait.”

Pogue looks at him over his shoulder and holds up a hand in a silently inquiring gesture.

“Ah… when?” Tyler says.

“What?” Pogue says.

Tyler swallows and looks away from him nervously and Pogue suddenly gets it. At least a little. This is somewhat the same reason why Tyler came to him in the first place and not to Reid, who he is closer to, only it‘s all unexpectedly turned on Pogue now.

Tyler’s scared that he is asking for something Pogue can’t give him.

He couldn’t be more wrong, but Pogue looks around at the dingy, florescent lit, graffiti decorated bathroom of Nicky’s and it just does not seem like the place or time for him to say that. “Tyler, we’ll talk, I promise,” Pogue says. “Not here, though.”

Tyler glances up at him, trying to decide if he’s telling the truth. It’s easy to believe him because he knows him so well and Pogue would never hurt him if he could prevent it, Tyler knows this and trusts it. It’s even easier because he wants desperately to love him, and so just as desperately to believe him.

After a minute, he nods and follows Pogue out of the bathroom and past the freckle-faced guy, back into the bar. Pogue goes straight to the table where Reid is in the middle of a game with three boys they don’t recognize and says, “Come on, we’re leaving,” as he walks past him to grab his coat off the chair where he left it.

“Hey! Wait, we’re not leaving yet,” Reid says, turning to give Pogue an incredulous look. “I’m in the middle of a game, here.”

“Yeah, and getting your ass kicked,” says one of the boys, grinning.

“All part of my plan, boys,” Reid says. “Pogue, man, come on. Let me finish this game first.”

“Grab your shit, Reid, we’re leaving,” Pogue says, lighting a cigarette as he walks by Tyler, bumping his hip against Tyler’s in a silent command to start for the door.

“Ah… do you want to drive?” Tyler asks, taking his keys out of his pocket to offer them to Pogue.

Pogue shakes his head and drags deep on his cigarette, his gaze darting back to where Reid is settling up with the other boys around the pool table. “Come on, Reid, move your ass,” he calls, exhaling smoke around the words. “Or spend some of that hard earned cash on a cab.”

“Alright, alright, Jesus,” Reid says, coming toward them. “What the hell happened to get your panties in such a twist anyway? Nicky catch you spanking it in the bathroom?”

Tyler coughs on a laugh, flushing bright red because it’s just close enough to the truth to be a little embarrassing. Pogue slants his eyes at him, amused and shakes his head. “Nah, but I got to turn in early. Late night tomorrow, you know?”

Reid grins at him and throws a companionable arm around Pogue’s shoulders as they leave the bar and cross the parking lot to Tyler’s car. “Sure, got to keep the lady happy, right?” he says. “Doesn’t matter, I’m up a hundred and forty bucks anyway. Better to quit while I’m ahead and no one wants to gut me yet, huh?”

Pogue watches Tyler’s shoulders tense and his expression go carefully blank at Reid’s casual and clueless mention of Kate and he frowns. “Better to quit while you’re ahead,” he agrees absently.

Reid makes a sound of agreement in his throat and gets in the passenger seat when Tyler unlocks the car. Pogue keeps his eyes on Tyler as he goes by him, putting out a hand to rest it on his shoulder for a second, trying to silently offer comfort. He squeezes once, then he gets into the back seat and sprawls out.

Tyler stands with the door open, not moving for a little while. He taps his fingers once on the car door, considering his options then he sighs and just gets in. He starts it and cracks a window in the back to let out Pogue’s cigarette smoke.

~~*~~

Kate decides on a diner for them to eat at, which is fine with Pogue because he would much rather not dress up if he can avoid it. It’s while he’s finishing his burger and Kate’s picking at her pasta that she tells him the name of the movie she wants to see. The only thing he can think is that _P.S. I Love You_ sounds like nothing but an excuse to torture him as punishment for not taking her to the movies with Sarah and Caleb the night before.

About one hour into the film, with it dragging so slow it _hurts_ —and he’s not really even sure what the fuck it’s actually about anyway, but there’s definitely supposed to be some lesson on greater meaning or the workings of the universe or something in there somewhere—he‘s absolutely positive. _P.S. I Love You_ is the chick flick equivalent of Chinese Water Torture and he is _very_ sorry he didn’t go with Sarah and Caleb the night before to see the second sequel to _Pirates of the Caribbean_. He’s heard it also sucked, but he’s also sure it was shorter because there’s no way in hell it could possibly be longer. At least there was _action_ in those, Keira Knightley dressed up as a sexy pirate and Johnny Depp in eyeliner. Thinking about it, he’s a little regretful.

But then Pogue tilts his head back against the back of his chair and stares up through the dust motes and light, remembering Tyler and how he shook in his hands, the way his voice caught and his lashes, long and black as any girls, fluttered. He thinks of Tyler’s soft voice whispering to him _Come on, come on, yes, yes, come on_ as he pushed back against him and how he smelled and tasted and _felt_. Pogue’s pretty sure he could endure a hundred reruns of _P.S. I Love You_ to have that again and he’s not sorry at all.

He jerks when Kate lays her hand on his thigh and she gives him a perplexed look. Pogue returns her look with an apologetic smile and shrugs.

“Where were you just now?” Kate asks him, tilting her head toward his to be heard.

“Nowhere,” Pogue whispers back. _Nicky’s_ , he thinks, and the hell of it is, he’s still a little bit there. He’s been in the bathroom at Nicky’s with Tyler in his head all day.

And it’s with that _still_ in his head that Kate leans in and tries to kiss him. Surprised by it, Pogue tenses and jerks his head back before he catches Kate eyeing him with confusion and makes himself relax. He tilts his head toward her and lets her kiss him, trying in vain to banish Tyler from his mind as he kisses her back.

The uncomfortable kiss comes to an abrupt end when Kate pulls away from him and makes a face. “I wish you would stop smoking,” she whispers, turning her attention back to the movie. “I don’t know why you started it in the first place.”

Pogue snorts, half amused and half annoyed by her now and sits back to stare blankly at the screen. “Kate, I wanna break up,” he says calmly, out of nowhere. He almost startles himself as he hears it and realizes that he means it. He means it so much that it’s almost laughable.

“Don’t be ridiculous,” Kate says, not even bothering to look at him. “It’s just a gross habit, Pogue, that’s all. Chew some gum or something. No big deal.”

“No, Kate, I mean it,” Pogue says, sitting up to turn toward her.

Kate notices it and sits up more herself. “Why? Because I don’t like you smoking?” she whispers, hissing it at him and trying to keep her voice down. “That’s a stupid reason to break up.”

Pogue actually thinks it’s as good a reason as any, but since it’s not the real reason and he _does_ love Kate in his way, he doesn’t tell her that. “No, Kate, that’s not why,” he says. “We just… This feels like work. Doesn’t this feel like work to you sometimes?”

“What are you talking about?” Kate says.

“Us. This,” Pogue says, gesturing between them. “It should be easier.”

Kate frowns at him, but he can see in her eyes that she knows exactly what he means. It’s a relief to see that because it means he’s not going to hurt her with this. Not as much as it would hurt her if she didn’t on some level agree.

“Sometimes it’s easy,” Kate says, but she’s not arguing with him and they both know it. “Sometimes it’s really nice.”

“Yeah, but it feels like… a break or something when that happens, Kate,” he says. He puts out a hand and hooks a lock of her black hair back behind her ear. “It’s not the way things really are.”

Kate sighs and nods her head, her eyes darting without much interest to the movie as it’s drawing toward the end. “Yeah,” she says.

Pogue watches her and waits a few minutes before he asks her, “Are you alright?”

Kate turns to him and smiles faintly. “Yeah.”

He raises his eyebrows at her, waiting for that last proverbial shoe to fall, and says, “Are _we_ alright?”

Kate’s smile turns a little brighter. She shoves his arm lightly. “Yeah, we’re fine. You want to go?”

Pogue gives the movie a last disgusted look and stands. “God, yes,” he says.

~~*~~

The next day is Sunday, so Pogue doesn’t see Tyler and he doesn’t think to call him or go by the dorms to see him. It occurs to him in passing because there’s a savage _want_ twisted up inside him and his thoughts stray to Tyler more than once throughout the day and linger, but he doesn’t go. Partly because he doesn’t think he has the right and partly just because, want aside, he’s alone for the first time in days and he’s enjoying it.

He goes down to the garage when it gets dark to work on his mother’s car. She’s been complaining about some noise under the hood and needing an oil change for about a week and Pogue’s finally got the time to see about it. He takes his coat with his phone in the pocket with him, mostly to keep it close in case something should happen, but he drops it on the floor by the right front tire instead of wearing it. It’s cool in the garage, but it feels good on his skin and he doesn’t want to get oil on the leather.

After a cursory look, Pogue doesn’t find anything wrong with the car’s engine, but he does find a branch caught up under the wheel well. He decides to wait a few days to see if that was the problem before he goes fiddling around with anything else. He hopes it’s that simple because, though he likes working on cars, working on his mother’s car always makes him a bit uncomfortable. It’s like doing open-heart surgery on a family member or a family member’s beloved pet. A lot more responsibility than he likes.

Pogue’s on his back under the car preparing to drain the oil when his phone rings. Cursing, he puts his arm out and slaps at the garage floor, trying to reach his coat where he dropped it by the car to answer it, but it’s not close enough. Muttering under his breath, he squirms on his back out from under the car and goes around the side to snatch it up from the floor.

“What?” he says into the phone, not looking to see who it is before he answers it.

There’s silence on the other end for a few seconds, the sound of breathing and Pogue takes the phone away from his ear to look at it and see whose prank-caller, heavy-breathing ass he’s going to be cussing. Except it’s Tyler and his irritation is suddenly just gone when he knows this.

“Tyler?” he says. “What’s wrong?”

“Why does something always have to be wrong?” Tyler says, and his voice is rough.

“Hey, are you crying?” Pogue says, surprised by the idea, but still almost certain of it.

“No,” Tyler says quickly. “No… I… Not anymore.”

“Okay,” Pogue says slowly, leaving it open for Tyler to explain that to him if he wants to.

“Pogue?”

“I’m here,” Pogue assures him. He picks up a rag from on top of the toolbox and tries to wipe some of the grease off his hands. “What is it, Ty?”

Tyler takes a deep breath on the other end of the phone and says, so soft and frightened, “I love you. I don’t know why… I just do.”

Pogue opens his mouth to respond and hears the phone disconnect in his ear. “Well god _damn_ it,” he growls, and instantly calls him back.

It rings for such a long time that he doesn’t think Tyler’s going to answer it and that means Pogue will be forced to go over to Spencer Academy in the middle of the night on a Sunday and make a scene so he can get inside to see Tyler. To demand that he _say that again_ because Pogue’s not exactly sure he heard him right and even if he did, maybe he wants him to say it again anyway—

“What?” Tyler says when the phone stops ringing.

There are a million different possibilities to how he can answer that question, but none of them seem to fit. Pogue takes a deep breath, lets it out and just says, “Come over. We should talk.”

 

  
**XXX**   


**Author's Note:**

> There is a sequel to this; [The Warm Winter Heart](http://archiveofourown.org/works/258842)


End file.
